


Thick as Thieves

by hegemony



Category: Iron Man (Movies)
Genre: Bondage, Character of Color, Multi, Sensory Deprivation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-09
Updated: 2011-07-09
Packaged: 2017-10-21 04:56:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/221173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hegemony/pseuds/hegemony
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony so won't fall for Rhodey's plan. Until he does, and realizes there's a lot he doesn't really know at all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Thick as Thieves

**Author's Note:**

> For Kink_Bingo 2008 prompt "Sensory Deprivation (touch)."   
> Spoilers for both 1st movie and comic book timelines, albeit they're kind of creatively intertwined. Unintentional overusage of Rhodey's first name.   
> Thanks to Stephanometra for always being there to read over this and cheer along and keysmash and make sure that I wasn't off the deep end.
> 
> Originally posted June 19, 2008/ Gently Revised July 9, 2011

Tony doesn't like mincing words, especially in his own head, so he'll be frank with himself: Rhodey, _his_ Rhodes? Completely and totally evil. And no, not in that evil laugh and plans for world domination kinda way. It's that perfect measured Machiavellian evil, low whispers of ideas in moments of predetermined vulnerability. His accent slipping in slow and sweet, his voice breathy-light and reassuring that yes, it was Tony's idea all along, and yes, they do understand each other.

Tony should have realized how much he listens, how Rhodey seems more talkative after their playtime than before. Instead, all either of them can ever think about is the stress relief, the familiarity of skin against skin, tapered hips and thighs tight enough to sustain three g's of force for hours at a time, when the question comes. It's the feather-light first kiss that dovetails right into ripped open clothes, finger stretched holes, and white hot pleasure that itches at the inside of skin, sticking right to bones. It's fun, playful, nothing ever too serious even now, when they've become different people than they were at MIT.

Tony figures it has to be the way Rhodey looks at him while coming, mouth open and brows knit together, fingers pressed into the notch of Tony's hip no matter the position and eyes opened completely, unquestioningly, lovingly. Tony knows he looks the same, brothers in arms, friends with benefits, it's all the same. He can go dollars to doughnuts at the Playboy Mansion every day of the week, but one look from Jim Rhodes and it is _on_ until neither one of them can bear to stand.

 

 

They're sharing each other's breath when it starts, "It will always be amusing to me how low-tech your bed is, Tony."

Tony rolls onto his back, sits up a bit. "I'd like to think it's charming this way, but now that you mention it, there's always room for improvement. Especially nowadays..."

"Side projects a million, hmm?"

"What can I say, the list never ends."

Jim presses a kiss into the notch at the base of Tony's neck, fingers sweeping over the edge of the reactor with an intimate touch, "No, Tony, it never does."

 

 

Tony starts drawing plans for a new bed the next day.

Pepper's heels announce her entrance into the workshop before Tony sees her. Jarvis lets her in without so much as a chirp. She places a cup of coffee on Tony's desk, carefully. "Good morning, Mr. Stark."

Tony looks back at her, smiles softly. "Good morning. How was your night?"

"I slept," Pepper responds, flatly. "So, you have a phone appointment at 12:30, MIT called again about your speaking at commencement, and we need to put together a statement about..."

"If you were to build the best bed in existence, what would you put on it?" Tony interrupts.

"Sir..."

"You said you slept last night. Presumably, you used a bed-- unless you of course decided not to be truthful about your evening. So what would make your bed-using experiences better?"

Pepper blinks at him.

"Exasperated surprise is always a good look for you, Potts," Tony grins, turning back to his computer.

"I mean, well, I dunno. Are we talking about sleeping or other activities? Because as long as it's only a little firm, I'd be happy," Pepper offers. "Extra-curriculars, however?"

Tony raises an eyebrow at that. "Yes?"

"It depends on the activity," she says, looking down at her hands. "Storage is always good, nice to have things at arms length. Good restraints, perhaps... Dense waterproofing for good measure."

"Restraints, Pepper? Waterproofing? Is there something I should know?" Tony asks as she stays quiet. "Is there something you'd like to tell me, Miss Potts?"

"If that'll be all, sir," Pepper responds.

"I love it when you evade the question," Tony grins. "That will be all, Pepper. Storage, waterproofing, somewhat firm sleeping surface, good restraint system -- no, no, two for good measure. Thank you for your help."

Pepper rolls her eyes, shakes her head, and walks off, "Of course, sir. Remember, conference call at 12:30."

"12:30, got it."

 

 

Tony gets around to it...eventually.

It takes some creative use of Jarvis' sewing skills and one too many bottles of whiskey, but the designs for the new bed are actually pretty interesting and versatile, and the foam core seems dense but comfortable, like it will chew him up and spit him out when he needs it, but will adjust to something more flexible if he needs that, too. Moving it up to the bedroom and assembling it himself, however, is a bit more of a bitch, to put it nicely. Dummy offers to help, but that code Tony keeps on trying to fix doesn't like it when he tries to remove that slapstick notion of 'fire safety,' and the last thing Tony wants is a hammer on his foot, or even worse, to be extinguished again. Nope, times like these, he's got real friends.

"Only you would decide that your bed's restraint system should be outfitted in white leather," Rhodey starts. "You got that wrench, still?"

"Yeah," Tony says, handing it over. "And besides, it matches the sheets, what's wrong with white leather?"

"I know your whole room is white, and you're in Malibu, so everything else by default is painted white," he says as Tony rolls his eyes and takes another swift sip of his scotch, "But it's not 1987 anymore."

"Well, it'll just be '87 here, then." Tony shrugs, making sure the left wing of the bed can move and shift from the remote control. "Besides, it's not like that's the only restraint system the bed has. If _someone_ dislikes it, I can use the other one."

"Because the robots make so much more stylistic sense," Rhodey murmurs. "They are flexible, though. That's something I can appreciate."

"Since when did you appreciate flexibility, huh?"

"Since you started banging every girl you could get your hands on, hot shot."

"Someone sounds jealous," Tony says, sitting on the bed and letting the foam swallow him up. "Oooh."

Rhodey puts the wrench down on the table, pressing the access panel closed and the hideaway shelving where the robotic arms are down and away from sight. The sun's setting on the ocean, light flooding into the room. "Contrary to popular belief, Tony, who you choose to share your time with is only my concern when you share it with me, or when it ends up on the front page of the international section of the papers instead of on page six."

Tony reaches for his glass of scotch again, smiles into the rim, "You sure about that, Platypus?"

"I envy them for their abilities and assets," Rhodey says, clipped. He's grinning like a loon, looking directly at Tony. "Nothing else."

Tony laughs at that one, shaking his head. "You're wishing you had boobs again, aren't you?"

Jim sits next to him, taking a long pull from his beer, "You know how absolutely trashed I was when I told you that?"

"I know," Tony says, sliding his glass of scotch onto the table and pressing his lips against Jim's. There's a bit of hesitation, a little spark of surprise when Rhodey opens his mouth, tongue sweeping against Tony's bottom lip in intrigue. Tony thinks little of it, easing the beer bottle from Rhodey's hands and placing it aside, painting the two of them across the bed. With the press of a button, the foam by Jim's wrists rotates around, captures the skin of his arms and pulls it flush to the bed with soft, white leather. Tony pulls away, and when Jim tries to follow, there's the bite of an effective restraint and a hungry gleam in his eye. "You get a lot more privilege than those one-night-stands do, anyway."

"I do, huh?" he asks, leaning back as Tony's hand skims over his shirt, goes to loosen his belt and undo his fly. "Privileges like what, hmm?"

"Well," Tony starts, matter-of-factly as he pushes Rhodey's pants down to his thighs, lifting him free as the two of them kiss, "I trust you, for one thing. I like you for something other than your rack, for another. Then there's the suit, for another. And the fact that I let you take full advantage of my sexual versatility..."

"...That what they're calling it these days, Mr. Stark?"

"Don't interrupt me or I'll keep you here for a week. Oh, and there's the tiny little detail that I'll gladly let you come in my mouth any day of the week, and I think we both know about that one."

There's a stretch of silence, a few insane moments where Tony doesn't know what's coming next as the sun gets swallowed by the ocean, night on the horizon and the two of them in the dim light of Tony's reactor and a red sky through the windows. Rhodey starts laughing, though, it grows from a snicker to a steady chuckle to an outright feel-good laugh. "I can't believe you just said that with a straight face."

"Did it look practiced?"

"Yeah, yeah it did," Jim grins, pushing up just a little bit to land on Tony's lips again, the two of them indulging in the feel and tease of this, in the gambit of restraint. He breaks first, panting against Tony's lips, rutting against Tony's abs, breathlessly asking, "How long you gonna make me wait, huh?"

"You're less patient when you're held down, aren't you? That's one to write down." Tony licks his lips, sitting back on his haunches and trails a finger over the leather surrounding Rhodey's wrist. "White really isn't a good choice, is it?"

"It's not the summer of '87, Tony," Jim says, sagely.

"No. I guess it's not," he sighs, teasing as he shimmies down to Rhodey's cock, dragging his lips against the shaft before opening his mouth, and settling in for the long haul.

The next morning, Tony asks Pepper to place an order with the leather factory again ("More leather, Tony?" she'd asked exasperatedly. "Just how many restraints does this thing have?") and he coats the fingers of the robots in black lacquer paint. Black will look better, hotter on skin like a brand. Tony thinks there's something to the idea of looking thoroughly checked, and maybe just a little owned.

If he's honest with himself, and all.

 

 

Rhodey likes to practice and prepare all of his work in neat little sequences, closed circuits and seemingly random projects that eventually line up perfectly to reveal their nature as one big plan that always seems to work. And he never, ever, lets anyone know until he wants the benefits of their knowledge.

It's one of the reasons why Tony should have been much more quick to judge after walking into the living room and finding Pepper and Rhodey engaged in a hushed conversation, looking at each other like confidants, conspirators. Tony's not blind; he knows that those things are integral parts to how Pepper and Rhodey work, support systems for each other in dealing with him, whatever that's supposed to mean. Still, his lips smack and his toes twitch in his shoes. He wonders how far they've gone with each other, what kind of secrets they've traded over cups of coffee and dirty martinis, if they learned how to communicate with each other through glances before or during his extended vacation in Afghanistan. He can't bring himself to blame them, either of them, for keeping it from him. He thinks they just don't quite know how to break it to him.

Pepper's packing her things, getting ready to leave for the night, and Jim Cramer's still on TV, screaming at the top of his lungs to buy, buy, or sell, sell.

"You two talking stock portfolios, again?" he asks, wiping dirty hands against his jeans before trying to straighten out his hair.

"Not all of us have a league of accountants watching out for our investments, sir," Pepper says with a soft smile.

"It's not my fault they arranged themselves into teams and play softball with each other on the weekends," Tony replies.

"It is, actually," Pepper points out, quietly. She closes her bag and stands up in front of him. "Will that be all, Mr. Stark?"

"Yes, I think it will be. Have a good night, Miss Potts," he replies.

"And you as well, Sir," she nods, before turning to Rhodey and smiling her goodbye. Tony pretends not to notice when he does the same. Instead, he occupies his time with two things. The first is dealing with conning Rhodey to help him work on a billion new projects tonight, and the second is how hot it would be to watch as Pepper and Rhodey had it out with each other in his brand new bed. A tight little thrill dances in his stomach, imagining Pepper's hair spread across the sheets of his old one, the thought of allies having a tryst while he isn't looking.

"I brought pizza," Rhodey says, softly, as he brushes past Tony on his way down to the lab.

 

 

The trick to Rhodey's evil is timing.

There's been a rather arduous lull for a while, too much activity happening in life in general. Pepper's got more than her fair share for the both of them, Tony'll be the first to admit, and Rhodey's off on the other side of the world, being that guy who does those things. Fleeting flights of boyish fancy let Tony imagine that James Rhodes is no run-of-the-mill Air Force mid-brass, but a super spy cavorting around Prague while shooting people and looking rather debonair in a suit. There's no time for innovation or imagination, just cold business and the everyday game of phone tag. Just 'keep me up to date' and 'I'll be back in the area relatively soon, after my meeting'. There's no personality, no skin to touch and eyes to project. It's all formal restraint, barriers erected in the form of midday words and signatures on papers.

It's not like Tony doesn't have other prospects, either. Don't confuse him with a lesser man, or one more stable, after all. The morning afters and sweet suppositions, however, are only so amusing when he's not trying to woo Pepper like a gentleman without scaring her off or looking like Hugh Grant. Furthermore, he knows that the only word to describe what he's going to do to Rhodey the next time he sees him is "epic."

The bed's comfy, though. It's the best thing he's done for himself (well, partially) in quite a while.

 

 

"You have a meeting with..." Pepper stops in the middle of her sentence, "Is that for..."

"It's gonna be Rhodey's, yeah," Tony glows, twisting his hands into the abdomen of the suit to solder some of the wiring. Without Jim around, all Tony can really do is stress test it, retrace the steps that he took with his own suit and make sure that the mechanics work the same way. He sees Pepper reach out and touch the titanium, a fleeting caress of an imaginary thigh. Curious, he thinks to himself.

"I thought you were just going to get Jarvis to make a carbon copy of yours, Tony," Pepper says.

"Why would I possibly do that? I wanted to build one for him, so it should fit to him, shouldn't it? It needs to be his." Tony shrugs, standing back. He can see the curves of Jim in the metal, in the way it curves down the abdomen, the slightly cut hips. He can see the adoration in Pepper's eyes, but isn't sure if it's directed to the suit itself, or to the man who'll be wearing it most. "Want one yet?"

"Me?" Pepper snaps out of her stare, smiles. "Please. If you ever designed one of those for me, I'd never have to fight crime because all the criminals would be staring at my chest. I know you."

"I resent that remark, Miss Potts! I am not a chauvinist," Tony defends.

"Painting things various shades of pink does not make them 'for women', Tony," Pepper replies, carefully as if talking to a five year old.

"That was one time, and I was simply making a statement about how everything's coming in ridiculous colors, nowadays," Tony groans. "You'll never let me live that one down, will you?"

"Never," Pepper says.

"So, how does it look?" Tony asks, putting the soldering pen back into its base.

"If you have to be so humble about it," Pepper says, sarcastically, "it'll be gorgeous, and I'm happy you're making it for him. Why are the shoulders cut like that, though?"

"Oh, there's gonna be cannons and rockets," Tony says.

"Can't say 'Rhodey' without some kind of muscle, can it?" She says, fondly. "Now, you have a meeting with the board of directors in an hour, I need some kind of answer from you on the Pollock you wanted me to track down, seeing as the last one wasn't 'Spring-y' enough, and I think you haven't eaten today, so some kind of hint as to what you'd like for lunch would always be nice."

"Surprise me," he shrugs, "and bring it down here. Anything else?"

"The cannon should be on the left shoulder, not the right. It'll balance him out, aesthetically speaking."

Tony looks, cocks his head and tries to imagine how Jim walks, how the weapons on the suit are already arranged in his head. Surprisingly, she's right.

"Those art appreciation classes came in handy after all, Potts."

"Duly noted, Mr. Stark."

 

 

It's dark outside, and if it weren't for the reactor glowing through Tony's white shirt, the room would be pitch black. Tony closes his eyes, imagines it is, reaches out to kiss at Rhodey's lips for a long moment before opening them again.

Rhodey's hands carefully, slowly undo the buttons on Tony's shirt. He's looking down, brows furrowed in determination while Tony asks, "So how was Prague?"

"Who said I was in Prague? I was in Iraq, Tony. You know the tiny little war we just so happen to be in, you ever hear about that?"

"Do I detect a note of sarcasm in your voice?" Tony bickers. Jim's mouth settles into a frown to keep from laughing. Tony rolls his eyes and sighs, "How was Iraq, then?"

He presses a soft kiss on Tony's lips, adorably chaste as it can be, "As much as I appreciate the gesture of engaging in small talk instead of jumping right into foreplay, I don't think I want to talk about it right now. How's Pepper?"

"Oh, you know, small favors and random acts, doing the stuff I pay her for, the usual. I'm sure she'd be glad to know you're asking about her while undressing _me_."

"Do I detect a note of _jealousy_ in your voice, Tony?"

"Touché."

Jim smiles, tugging the fabric from Tony's shoulders before pressing him against the glass of the wall. There's a gentle but forceful moment, where Rhodey spreads Tony's hands out by his sides against the cool window pane, and dares Tony with his eyes to leave them there for as long as he can, even though Tony knows Rhodey plays the consequence game too much in his real life to bring consequence here between them. He bites at Tony's lips, a merciless tease while his hand ventures south, undoing the belt on Tony's slacks before reaching in through the waistband and getting to the point. "I think I'll make you come just like this, pressed up against your window, all jealous and eager enough that you don't know whether you'll be able to hold off making a mess in these pants. You gonna come, Tony? How long have you waited, huh?"

Tony doesn't say anything, just reaches for Rhodey's head, pressing him onto his lips and keep him there because there's too much brainpower involved in saying 'you can't even understand how long I've been waiting for you to come back.' Even 'nobody can get me off this way except you' seems like too much work, when he could just be sucking Jim's lips off his face instead, thrusting into the loose fist around his cock. When they break apart for air, Tony knows he has to look absolutely ridiculous, glassy-eyed and heaving with his mouth a trashy shade of abused red, hips arching selfishly into the ever-tightening grip of Jim's hand. There's enough fluid collected that Rhodey's grip can zero in around him, twist and shift like a sidewinder, make him writhe. When Tony finally does come, he does so clutching at the skin of Jim's back, body curving in to that one central point of connection, head resting on Rhodey's shoulder as groans in Jim's ear.

The inevitable 'come inside me' comes not as a saccharine admission or harlequin turn of phrase, but as a challenge, a non-negotiable demand as Tony lays sprawled on the corner of the bed, naked and finger-fucked open. Rhodey strides up, manhandles him, and sinks right in. He doesn't let up until Tony's got stars in his eyes, finger-shaped dents in the sheets and cold sweat in places that should have short-circuited the reactor fifteen minutes ago, were it not for the new waterproofing.

This never gets old.

 

 

Tony knows it's a rather fucked-up notion, having what could only be termed a 'slumber party' with Rhodey and waking up to an empty bed, knowing there's a good chance he slipped right out of the house seconds before Pepper had come in and made her customary beeline to the coffee machine. He imagines her sneaking into the bedroom, laying a careful hand on Rhodey's shoulder, informing him of the extra dress blues in the closet.

Still, it's awkward when Jarvis lets light into the room at seven sharp, starts giving him the weather and the tide information and all the other ridiculous bullshit he doesn't need but likes as an alarm clock on mornings after nights before. He'd be lying if he didn't admit it was there to impress the chicks, anyway.

"Shut up, Jarvis."

"Of course, sir."

There's the stabbing, twisting notion that maybe, instead of Rhodey slipping out right as Pepper settles in, they stopped and had another talk, perhaps a cup of coffee. He's prepared to brush it off as a post-traumatic stress related spat of paranoia, after all Obidiah had put him through, but then he starts thinking about hot bodies, still responsible enough to remain at least partially clothed, pressed up against each other and the granite counter tops in his kitchen. He aches to touch at the both of them, fingers everywhere in the spirit of exploration, in the curiosity of it all. He wonders if Rhodey's different, gentler with a woman than he is with Tony. He wonders if Pepper's calves are as soft as they look, if she's so coldly formal even when she's coming. He thinks of the curve of her ankle leading into her shoes, the pale skin of what little chest she puts on display.

He imagines the two of them with clothes shoved up and pushed open instead of slowly removed, bodies shoved up next to the coffee maker, her heels digging dimples into his back. Now he's got a hard-on like a cannon, and there is nothing post-traumatic about that. He rolls over, floating in the place between awake and asleep, burrowing further into the sheets, willing himself back down. When that fails, he reaches down to grasp at himself, and thinks of how far a moan could bounce off stainless steel.

Goddammit, he's got things like _work_ he should be doing.

 

 

"Now, Tony, what kind of woman do you take me for?"

"Um, an insatiable, hot, fiery one?"

"Hopeful flattery won't get you an answer any quicker than asking point-blank." Pepper looks at him again, dryly laughing. She bites her lip. "That took more courage than you thought it would, didn't it?"

His fingers twitch; he wants to scratch his forehead, but his hands are covered in motor oil. Tony Stark does not get flustered, especially not over something so inexplicably small potatoes as this. Still, he huffs, "Yeah, yeah it did. You're not gonna tell hi..."

"No, I won't." She smiles, the lie scribbled clear across her face. "Ask me again in a week."

"I will, then. Three-thirty, Wednesday afternoon, I'll ask you about it again," He grins. "And I'll keep asking, every week, until you answer."

"Would you like me to add it into your schedule, Mr. Stark?" she asks, and he can hear her amusement in her voice. He looks up at her again, and she's got the dirtiest look on her face, a bold challenge. A lady never gives her secrets away so easily.

"Fuck you, Potts."

"Will that be all, sir?"

He's aware of how much this probably makes him look like a baby.

 

 

 

Jim has to make another trip over to Iraq, so Tony doesn't see him for a while.

However, the next time he does, it only takes twenty minutes to prepare, everything in arms reach, and Tony launches a full scale assault with military precision (don't ask, don't tell notwithstanding). It takes five minutes to strip and wrestle into a suitable position, the semantics of condoms and lube and stretching takes about ten more, and by the bottom of the hour, and he's got Rhodey screaming his praises, blood rushing from one head to the other and back again faster than any weapon Tony's ever conceived. If they kept this up at this pace all night, Tony's pretty sure Rhodey would go into shock from prostate stimulation alone. He wonders if he can pat himself on the back for that one without Jim noticing.

"Are you trying to get a world record or somethin'?" Rhodes asks, making an effort to reach for the water on the nightstand, but deflating across the sheets instead.

"Depends," Tony shrugs, reaching for the bottle, pushing it into Jim's hand. "You think Guinness will send a representative over?"

They go slow after that, methodical and drawn-out, once in the bed and once in the shower. Tony's sure he's got bruises from how hard Rhodey had clawed into his back, scratching deep with worn-down nails and calloused fingers, but it's been a hot, intense evening, and its good to know that Rhodey and him aren't all familiarity, just yet. Maybe Jim's not so reasonable, predictable and robotic in his old age, after all.

Still, Tony knows when he gets sleepy, knows how easy it is to get information out of Rhodey when he's fucked-out and relaxed, well hydrated with a mind like a just-cleaned chalkboard.

"So," he whispers, bedroom-easy and all body-to-body slither, fingers trailing innocent patterns over Rhodey's back, "you and Pepper... did you ever..."

Rhodey's laugh is easy, open. "Pepper told me about you asking her that."

"She promised she wouldn't," Tony groans. "It's not a jealousy thing, honest, I just...it's nice to know when your best friend and your assistant are going at it like woodland creatures, and all. I'd totally be okay with it and everything. I mean, even if it were just once, completely because both of you needed uncontrollable amounts of consolation while I was gone and everyth..."

"...self-absorbed asshole motherfucker," Rhodey grins in awe of what Tony's insinuating. "You can't tell me you haven't checked Jarvis' backlogs of the house."

"Hey, that's not an answer," Tony says.

"And you don't need one, Tony," Rhodey says. "It's cute you have a crush on her, though. Need to do somethin' about that soon."

"I do not have a crus..."

"Like I've told you before, I only care about who you spend your time with when it's either me or shows up in the international section instead of the tabloids," he interrupts, turning over to look Tony in the eye.

"I hate you, you know that? Both of you," Tony points out.

"Mmmhmm. Really convincing, Tony."

 

 

Tony checks the security footage of the house throughout the time he spent in captivity.

There's absolutely nothing there.

For good measure, he checks the footage of the house from the mornings where he doesn't get up as Rhodey leaves and Pepper comes in. There's a few times when the two of them share that cup of coffee, or when Rhodes says something and Pepper looks at him as he leaves, but again, there's nothing scandalous.

Maybe, Tony thinks, he was wrong.

Rhodey's still sleeping when Tony sneaks back into bed.

 

 

"How long have you had this bed, Tony?" Rhodey asks.

"I...dunno. Couple of months," Tony groans. Light's flooding into the room, full blast and whenever Tony tells Jarvis to dim the incoming light, Jim helpfully tells Jarvis not to listen. The most helpful piece of coding Tony's ever created, Jarvis always listens to Rhodey instead.

"And you never asked yourself or even remotely fathomed why you built in two different kinds of restraints for a California King size mattress?"

"Pepper suggested it, thought I'd make her squirm," Tony shrugs, "I needed a new bed, we've been over this one before."

"Yes, Tony, yes we have," Rhodey says, happily, before pressing a button on the nightstand and watching as one of the panels pop up, swing around, and dispatch robotic arms to hold Tony down by the wrists. "That's quite an interesting design, by the way. Ever thought of going into furniture design whenever weapons gets old?"

"You are a horrible friend," Tony whines. He wiggles a hand out of one of them, but as soon as it realizes that his hand is gone, it follows after him, gripping the hand and pivoting back with what can only be considered a 'harrumph!' of determination. Fuck court-marshaling; he's gonna bludgeon Rhodey to death. "I swear, the minute I get out of these, I'll..."

"If you'd just give me a minute." Rhodey smiles at him, smugly, before settling between his legs, and proceeding to do the kinds of things with his tongue that are only technically legal in international airspace.

 

 

 

"So, in the bathroom I was looking around for some more condoms, and guess what I found?" Rhodey asks, holding up a silver ring. "When's the last time you used this, Tony?"

"I totally forgot I had that," Tony responds. He sits up a little, still pulling at the robotic arms that seem just about ready to deck him one and be over and done with it.

"Let me remind you about it, then," Rhodey grins, sucking at the groove of Tony's hip, tongue fixed down the arch, tickling him. His hand reaches down to caress Tony back to hardness, smoothly fitting the ring at the base, just this side of cold. Tony can hear himself gasp, can feel himself strain and yearn to reach down and press his fingers against Rhodey's cheek, maybe urge him into yet another quick and dirty blowjob, but Jim's hand just keeps on pumping at him, massaging and rubbing until he's hard. Suddenly, the stinging denial the ring gives is enough to make his ears ring and his back arch. "That okay for you?"

"Oh, oh god," he groans. There's the burning urge to rut against Jim, arch into his mouth, press further into his lips and urge him on further, and Tony gives a second's thought to what's the best way to say 'do whatever you want to me' without having to say all those words.

"I want you to tell me if this gets weird, okay?" he says, and Tony wonders what the hell Rhodey's thinking, there's not much that Tony won't do, especially in a position like this, and nothing he won't say to get his cock free. He'd promise away the whole world to come, and he knows Rhodey knows that, too. Jim's free hand is overflowing with condoms, spilling onto the bed like water. "I know how much you hate not being in control of things."

Tony looks up at Jim, blinks and takes a deep breath, "I appreciate the sentiment, James. Now, can we get this on the road before my own robots rip my arms off?"

There's a pause for the condom, and then Jim's pushing in as far as he can go, reaching up to bite at Tony's mouth, send sparks of pleasure up his spine with the first rough thrust. There's the soft, sharp reality that Jim draws around the two of them, of things like Tony's stretched-long torso, curled toes and connected thighs against every part of Jim. There's almost too much sun in the room, but Tony likes it because he can see everything, including every little twitch on Rhodey's face, including his eyes sliding shut, his lips parting on a moan, and how he grapples at Tony's calves, easing an adjustment or two for a better position. All he can do is watch, surrender, feel. Rhodey's slow, just hard enough to tease, and when Tony starts to pull, open his mouth to plead, Rhodey slips out and backs away.

Rhodey reaches over to press the button for the intercom on Tony's nightstand.

"What...what are you doing?"

"Jarvis," Jim says, a smirk scrawled across her face. "Could you please page Pepper?"

"Right away, sir," Jarvis says, curtly. Tony's still struggling, wriggling.

"Wait, wait, what are you doing, Rhodey? What the hell are you doing?" Tony asks, harried. "Come back here and fuck me! C'mon!"

"I'm doing something you want anyway," Jim smiles, sure of himself. He presses his fingers against Tony's chest. "Trust me on this, Tony. Just relax."

Tony figures this could go three ways: spectacular, bad, or abysmal. He tries to play the numbers game in his head, but when he gets close to the answer, Rhodey's already two steps ahead of him. Tony groans as Jim's free hand passes through his hair before reaching to lift Tony's leg around his waist and slipping back in. From then on, Tony's world shrinks down to only the bed, the pretty day outside the window, and the solid, unwavering presence inside him. If his heart still worked, he's sure he'd hear it pumping in his ears. Instead, he hears the far off clacking of Pepper's heels as she walks in, presently, and the aching silence of judgment when she stops. This is already awkward, imperfect, almost wro...

"I didn't think I'd want to just watch you two, but apparently I was wrong." Pepper's voice is breathless, in awe but unsure. Tony turns, even though Jim keeps his pace and his bed holds him firm.

"Tell me this is okay, tell me I'm right, Tony," Rhodey whispers, the most intimate and hopeful thing Tony's easily ever heard out of him. The itch to touch magnifies, courses through Tony's fingertips, down into his wrists and into his arms, the itch to roll Rhodey over and ride, push him farther than any engine Tony's ever owned makes the inside of his skin burn. He bites at Jim's mouth instead, breathes his thanks into Jim's mouth, throwing himself onto Rhodey's cock and groaning, aware of how this all must look.

"If all you want to do is watch, I'll be okay with that," Tony says, experimentally.

"I think you want more, though," Jim says, seemingly directing it to both of them.

Pepper walks closer, gets on the free side of the mattress, heels and all. She smiles, relaxed as she places a careful hand on Jim's back, watching him sit back, change position. Tony moans, eyelids fluttering shut at the feeling of Rhodey firmly parked across his prostate, every little twitch of position rubbing him to an orgasm he can't have. There's a moment's hesitation before Pepper reaches out for Jim, the two of them falling into an easy kiss of familiarity, and suddenly the blocks fall into place and Tony's questions are answered. Tony's tongue sneaks out to lick at his lips, sympathetically.

They break with a shaky breath, wet lips and easy lidded eyes. Pepper presses her fingers into the nape of Rhodey's neck, an anchor as she kisses him again. After they break, there's a glance over to Tony, and Pepper reaches her fingers to caress where his reactor meets skin. "Get him ready for me, Rhodey?"

"If he wants it, he's a rubber shy of ready. Thought I'd leave that to you," Rhodey smirks, leaning back and thrusting in further, as if to throw Tony out of his daze. "Still awake, Tony?"

"Et tu, Rhodey?" Tony asks, watching Pepper arching into his personal space. "More, c'mon, more. Anything, don't make me beg in front of company."

"Contrary to your own semi-delusional belief, you are not in a production of _Julius Caesar_ , nor are you his reincarnation, Tony. Besides, I'm not 'company.' I manage your life," Pepper says flatly before slipping her mouth over his, one hand perched on his arm, and one across his neck. Her lips are soft, just this side of chapped, just a little slick with the taste of Rhodey's mouth. A breeze of a kiss turns into the one thing Tony dreamed he could savor, wishing he could slip his hands into Pepper's hair and wrap his arms around her waist. Rhodey shifts again, draws out and fucks back in until there's too much stimulation everywhere, Pepper kissing and licking at his mouth, chin and neck while Jim's shiftless rhythm drives him deep.

"You're just trying for it, aren't you? Does it make you happy, getting me to beg?" Tony pouts.

"It is amusing," Pepper shrugs.

"Aaah, fuck. Fuck! Aren't you on the clock, Potts?"

"Technically, I'm sick," Pepper grins, turning her head away and faking a cough. Rhodey bites his lip, trying not to laugh. "I called you."

"You set me up?" Tony asks. "The two of you...and the...and..."

Rhodey leans down, happily, grabbing at him, and thrusting in as hard as he can. He bites at Tony's pinned arm, at his neck, and groans in his ear, "I'm gonna come. Fuck."

Rhodey's stiff over him, body arching and leaning in. Tony sighs, feels the rigid shake inside him, and watches as Jim comes inside him, unspoken words on the tips of tongues and the curves of lips.

Pepper drapes herself over Jim's shoulder, her fingers trace in the space between their bodies, and she holds down the condom as Jim slips away. Tony shrugs out of the restraints again, sitting up softly before the robots grab at his hands, regretting the delicious idea of installing heat-seeking radar in them. They capture his wrists, long fingers sheathing his hands as if to cut off all contact.

Jim sits up, kisses Pepper over his shoulder, and reaches for Tony's thigh. "That answer your question?"

Tony nods, "I'd say so. How long?"

Pepper grins, "Long enough. It's nothing big."

"I can see that," Tony says, sarcastically. " I hate to break up the little love-in we're having, but I'm still tied down and can't get anywhere."

Pepper grins, shimmying out of her jeans. She isn't wearing underwear underneath. "We may be able to take care of that."

"It could take a while, though," Jim adds, reaching for the condoms on the bed.

Tony balks, "Rhodey, I know you and you can't possibly be hard again after that."

"Tony, what makes you think all those are for me? I mean, after all, you're the one with the ridiculous hard-on, right?" Rhodey grins. "And I think you're gonna be in for a long afternoon."

There's that signature Stark huff, Tony deflates on the bed, fingers grappling at air, trying to reach the button to turn the restraints off himself. "I cannot believe the two of you!"

"Mmmhmm, right," Rhodey says, leaning back and undoing Pepper's shirt, unbuckling her heels and letting them drop to the floor one by one.

"Sure," Pepper grins, reaching for a condom. She flashes him an indulgent smile, ripping the package open, plucking out the ring and inspecting it, as if to ponder where it will go. "Let me show you a trick I learned in college."

That's the best thing Tony's ever heard in his life.

 

 

Tony never knew how well Rhodey and Pepper could work together until today.

No amount of explicit porn-rag purple prose can describe the way they destroy him. It's like they're hyperbole in action as Pepper rides him with Rhodey's help, his hands maintaining her languid, teasing pace. When it's his turn, Jim leans back onto his hands and away from Tony, his body thick with muscles bulging in athletic strain. He pants as Tony's cock rakes over his prostate at this angle, and he groans when Pepper's hand settles onto his cock in a lazy grasp, reaching at her to gasp against her lips as he comes.

They take turns, switch positions, toy with him, tease him, and tease each other with him. They don't bicker, or argue, and it's like every part of this has been thought out by somebody, choreographed in painstaking detail, flawlessly performed. It's like they've been dancing together for years, know how and where to touch each other, when to back off and when to egg on. It's all action, all give-and-take that reads like an indulgence, an illicit affair between them for an amount of time Tony simply can't calculate.

After Rhodey recovers enough to get it up, he lubes Tony up again gently, pushing in and sitting Pepper square down on Tony's cock. Everything's aligned enough that when Rhodey starts to thrust, he pushes Tony deeper into Pepper, and she pushes back, swaying him further down onto Rhodey and oh, oh that is _evil_ and Tony wouldn't give it up for the world and he hates the fact that he can't pull Pepper down by the hips or graze his fingertips onto her clit until she's screaming. Instead, he's just a cog in a machine, watching as two people fuck each other through him, and grapple each other as they fight to get to a place where they can make each other come first.

He knows he could fight, knows how he's been in stickier situations than this one and that if he wanted to, he could get out of this one. However, It's his front row seat that makes it all the sweeter to not even try.

Tony needs new friends.

 

 

The sun settles easily along the ocean yet again, and Tony dutifully sits up along the edge of the bed. He carefully cracks his neck, flexes his fingers, feels the bones in his shoulders settle the way they should. He yawns, thickly, and reaches down to slip the metal ring from his dick with a hitched breath. Pepper's somewhat asleep in the puddle of sheets beside him, and it's easy to reach over and satisfy his curiosity. He indulges himself in feeling her skin, finally, letting her groan and twist into his touch. He caresses her everywhere, tickling and exploring, kissing at the tops of her shoulders, the small of her back. He kisses her lips, and it's awkward for a second, but then it's nothing but sweet, soft. He tries to be a gentleman, tries not to grope, but every time he touches her he finds something new, something soft and reactive and a long time coming. He doesn't even know what he's done to her, where he's touched her to make her gasp like that, but he already knows that noise like the back of his hand, knows how she groans when she's coming. He grins on her lips, kisses her again with the knowledge that yep, he's still got it.

"So," Tony whispers happily, "when it's just you and Rhodey, where do the restraints come in, again?"

"It's not Wednesday, Tony," Pepper sing-songs, rolls over and grabs the blanket to keep herself warm.

"You're no fun, Pepper!" Tony groans. He leans down, fits himself to Pepper for one more second before sliding away. The shower's running, off in the back, and Tony has to piss, anyway.

 

 

 

Rhodey turns off the water and reaches for a towel. Tony watches him wipe the water off his face, from out of his eyes and look around. Tony chucks a towel in his direction, strides up and pins him to the wall, pressing his lips against Jim's.

"Thought you would be satisfied for at least a few days," Rhodey grins.

"You think so well of me," Tony says, sarcastically. "My middle name could easily be 'insatiable.'"

"Yeah," Rhodey says, softly. "Insatiable."

"One of my best qualities," Tony agrees. "And besides, it wasn't as if I came at all."

"Details, Tony. Always with the details," Rhodey says.

"So, about you and..."

"Tony, give it a rest."

"You know I would tell you if I'd..."

Rhodey kisses him again, softly, and walks past. "Either we can stand here and talk about the ins and outs of a relationship you have very little stake in yet, or I can get you off on the couch and we can watch some TV. I don't know about you, but I'd rather blow you, sit bare-assed naked on your couch and watch the NBA Finals with a beer instead of getting the twenty question treatment. It's still not the summer of '87, Tony."

Tony snorts, and laughs under his breath. "I can't believe you just said that with a straight fuckin' face, man."

Jim smiles. "Did it look practiced?"

"Yeah. Yeah it did," Tony sighs, leaning back against the shower pane door. "I'm hitting the showers and I fully expect both you and Potts bare-assed naked on my couch with a bottle of Johnny Walker and the NBA goddamned finals on TV, do you understand me?"

"I'll see what I can do."

"See what you can do," Tony nods, and turns the shower back on. The only thing that he can think of is how nice a long hot shower would be after the best, most out-of-control day in his life.

 

 

When Tony gets out of the bathroom and into the living room, Rhodey and Pepper are both wrapped up in each other on the couch, knotted together at the waist. The bottle of Walker is sitting on the table with a glass of ice, the TV on a Spaghetti Western, cowboys and Indians. Nobody's paying attention.

Tony feels like he's intruding, the way they're almost lost in whatever's happening between them, be it romance or just some really good fucking. He gets the itch to touch again, the little voice that urges him to command both of their attentions. He ignores it, sits down in the chair opposite the sofa, and pours himself some of the whiskey. The muscles in Rhodey's back shift with every smooth thrust, and Pepper's back is arching up perfectly, as if she were built for him. It's almost hypnotic, the slow drawn out rhythm as they rock back and forth quietly against each other. Tony takes a sip of his whiskey, crosses his legs like a king on a throne, watching as Pepper shatters to pieces, her legs locked around Rhodey's waist, mouth open as Rhodey presses his lips down into the valley of her breasts. They turn, and while Rhodey hisses as his orgasm hits, Pepper's already kissing him down from the edge, lazy and long. He watches as Rhodey folds into Pepper, chest to chest, torso to torso, his fingers curling at the flesh of her back. He fits his lips into the curve of her neck as she whispers something to him, and Rhodey's eyes catch Tony's in a languid glance.

It hits him then, watching their admittedly private afterglow: 'Rhodey's plan' was 'Rhodey and Pepper's plan', the two of them working in concert with Rhodey's soft spoken whispers and Pepper's stoic responses. It's silk and steel and a double team so good, he's almost worried that he figures into a greater plan for world domination.

After, the three of them pile together in warm skin, lazy afterglow while watching the finals. They're quiet, mindful of each other in a way Tony never expected. The three of them work in harmony; intimate, thick as thieves. There's a silent agreement that the sex is over for the night, that a good snack and an even better sleep is next on the agenda, and that there will, in fact be a tomorrow, and a day after. There's comfort in that, comfort in knowing that this is just another step.

Pepper's laying across their legs, sprawled out and when Tony slips his fingers through her strawberry blonde hair, it feels like an indulgence that he might not have earned, might have to work for. Still, she arches into his touch, eyes fluttering shut as Rhodey caresses over the outside of her thigh.

"Teases," she purrs.

"You should talk," Tony grins.

" _You_ should talk," she says.

"Hey wonder-twins, I know it's easy to bicker when you live in each other's front pockets everyday, but could you do it some other time when the Lakers aren't getting their asses handed to them?" Rhodey says, reaching over for that glass of Walker they've all been drinking from, as if they need the extra courage.

Tony looks over at him, and Jim catches it from the corner of his eye and looks back, smiling as Tony kisses him softly, a brush of lips against lips, too strung-out and raw for anything more. Tony sidles up a little closer, squashing the space between the two of them. Pepper giggles at the tickle of knees sliding along her back. There's a rough, awkward moment before the two of them relax. Tony's head lays back onto Rhodey's shoulder. Jim slings his arm around Tony, presses his fingers into Tony's hair, presses his lips to Tony's forehead, and turns back to the TV.

Content settles in, just the three of them and the game. This feels right, needed, perfect in the face of half-perfections for so long. The rules might have changed a bit, but who needs rules anyway?

Good things come to those who wait, and Tony realizes he's been waiting for this for quite a long time.

This may not be the summer of '87, but with all this dramatic and life-changing sex, it almost feels like the winter of '89.

 

Christ.


End file.
